A Scrap Of Paper (a scrap of hope)
by DobbyRocksSocks
Summary: He's just another statistic. A homeless teenager with nowhere to go and nobody to turn to. Rated for language and content. Check the warning.


**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

 **Challenge list at the bottom.**

 **Word count without An - 725**

 _Warning for suicidal thoughts, alcoholism, and brief mentions of homophobia, internal and external._

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 **A Scrap Of Paper** **(a scrap of hope)**

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When he was seventeen, he told his parents he was gay. He hadn't expected their reaction, didn't realise that those words, words he'd thought courageous at the time, would change his life so thoroughly.

Stupid words, now that he knew the cost of them.

He was kicked from the house with a black eye and a split lip, just the clothes on his back and a homophobic slur echoing in his ears, along with an order to leave his key behind.

Just another statistic.

Homeless teenager with nowhere to go and nobody to turn to.

The drink helped for a while. Begging for money off strangers was always easier when he was half-cut; the glares and mutters didn't bother him then.

He sat on park benches, late into the darkness of night, the brown paper bag doing nothing to disguise the bottle he drank from. Not that he really cared.

He was moved on occasionally by the police, but it only led him to a different bench, or back alley, or shop doorway. They couldn't make him go home when he had no home to go to.

He had to fight for his place occasionally, but years with Dudley as his best friend had taught him how to hold his own. It was different though, now that he was the one being bullied. Often, he would add an injury to a steadily growing list, a cracked cheekbone, a sprained ankle, a myriad of bruises.

Beer helped tremendously to dull the pain. As did vodka. And whiskey. Any alcohol he could get his hands on really.

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Time lost meaning, and seasons blended together. His weight dropped, and so many times, he thought to just end it all, just let someone find him in a gutter somewhere.

To just become yet another statistic.

He tried shelters, but he couldn't cope with the pity in the eyes of the volunteers. He didn't need their pity, and he didn't want it.

He'd put himself in this position by being wrong. By being gay. If he'd only been normal, he'd still be living at home with his parents, in the comfort of his bedroom, with heat and hot water and electricity.

If he'd only been normal, he'd still have his life.

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He was woken by gentle taps to his side.

"Fuck off," he muttered, thinking it one of the other homeless, trying to steal his spot.

"Get up, you lazy bastard."

The voice was familiar from a past life. His past life. The one where he mattered.

Shifting in the battered sleeping bag he lived in, he turned to look up at this intruder to his new life.

"What the bloody fuck do you want?" he asked, sitting up slowly and pulling himself up against the wall of the alley he'd been sleeping in.

"I've been searching for you for weeks. Here, eat," the man said, handing over a polystyrene box.

He took it, but as soon as he opened it, the smell of egg made his stomach roll. Handing it back, he murmured, "Take it away. Please."

"You're a fucking mess, mate."

"I'm not your mate," he replied. "I'm not anything anymore. I'm going nowhere, being nothing. I don't recommend you try it, it's shit."

"Oh, god, oh woe is you."

"I don't know what I'm doing."

He looked down at the floor, surprised when the other man crouched in his designer jeans to be at eye level.

"We all know what we're doing. Whether we realise it or not. I learnt that the hard way. Here."

He handed over a piece of paper that had an address scrawled on it.

"The key is under the mat. Let yourself in, take a bath, eat. The guest room is the one with the blue sheets. You can stay as long as you want."

The man stood, leaving the egg sandwich in the box by his feet.

"Why are you doing this now?"

"Because you're my friend. You've always been my friend, but my parents are the same as yours. I've just got my own place. So, are you ready to start living again? Time to make a choice, mate."

Piers watched Dudley walk away from him. He held the scrap of paper tightly in his hand, and for the first time in forever, he didn't feel hollow. He felt hope.

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 **Written for;**

Ways To Say - 84. The key is under the mat.

Disney - Poverty - Homeless!AU

Book Club - Judge Farris - Beer / Volunteer / Courageous

Showtime - 1. No one mourns the wicked - "Take it away."

Character Appreciation - 19. Write about a fight.

Lyric Alley - 8. I'm going nowhere.

Serpent - 39. Lancehead - Hollow

Library Lovers - Suite Scarlett - Key / "We all know what we're doing. Whether we realise it or not." / Doing a favor


End file.
